


Hearing Silence

by MuzzledRavings



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Freeform, Mute - Freeform, Muteness, Ninja, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Writing Exercise, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25713820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuzzledRavings/pseuds/MuzzledRavings
Summary: “Goddamn it!” He swore quietly, his voice hoarse from disuse. “Don't sneak up on me like that. What do you want?” He demanded, not moving his rifle from her chest. She didn’t move. She stood statue still. Boone was getting annoyed. “I think you’d better leave.” He growled.Finally, her head tilted slightly and the goggles pointed down at his rifle, still aimed at her chest. Then her head titled back up. Even though he couldn’t see her eyes through the goggles, he knew she was staring at him. Boone snorted, but finally lowered his rifle. “Get lost. I’m on duty.” He snapped and turned partly away from his visitor to look out through the dinosaur’s teeth and scan the desert he’d been neglecting.Boone had no idea who this visitor was. The only people he’d seen enter town in the past few days were the usual traders. Even knowing the sounds of the dinosaur’s creaky stairs by heart, he hadn’t heard her approach. As he scanned the desert he felt the gentlest tap on his shoulder. He turned to see she was still there, and holding a piece of paper out to him in a leather gloved hand.
Relationships: Craig Boone/Female Courier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Hearing Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a writing exercise; working with a mute character as a love interest.

# Chapter 1: Midnight Visitor

Fuck. She had snuck up on him. Boone leveled his rifle at the chest of his midnight visitor. In the mouth of the dinosaur, by the light of the full moon he could barely see that she was dressed in what looked like dark, sandy rags. The only thing that gave his visitor away as being a woman was the slight curve of her leather chest piece. She was covered, head to toe in leather and fabric. Her face was hidden by dark tinted goggles and closely wrapped fabric under a heavy hood. Around her waist were dozens of pouches and he could see the handle of a weapon over each shoulder. Other than those weapons, he saw no obvious firearms.

“Goddamn it!” He swore quietly, his voice hoarse from disuse. “Don't sneak up on me like that. What do you want?” He demanded, not moving his rifle from her chest. She didn’t move. She stood statue still. Boone was getting annoyed. “I think you’d better leave.” He growled.

Finally, her head tilted slightly and the goggles pointed down at his rifle, still aimed at her chest. Then her head titled back up. Even though he couldn’t see her eyes through the goggles, he knew she was staring at him. Boone snorted, but finally lowered his rifle. “Get lost. I’m on duty.” He snapped and turned partly away from his visitor to look out through the dinosaur’s teeth and scan the desert he’d been neglecting.

Boone had no idea who this visitor was. The only people he’d seen enter town in the past few days were the usual traders. Even knowing the sounds of the dinosaur’s creaky stairs by heart, he hadn’t heard her approach. As he scanned the desert he felt the gentlest tap on his shoulder. He turned to see she was still there, and holding something out to him in a leather gloved hand.

“What the hell is this?” He growled as he took the piece of paper from her gloved hand. He started reading it aloud. “We, the representatives of the Consul Officiorum, have this day bargained and purchased from Jeannie May Crawford of the township of Novac the exclusive rights to ownership and sale of the slave Carla Boone.” His voice gave out when he realized what he was reading. This was a bill of sale; for his _wife_. How did this woman…? Impulse took over and he moved to bring his rifle back up. In a lightning fast move, the woman grabbed the barrel of his gun and held it in place. With her other hand, she pointed back to the note. Hesitantly, Boone relaxed his grip on his rifle and brought the note up to finish reading it. It was sickening. He felt the bile rise up in his throat and barely suppressed the urge to bend over and retch.

“Where did you get this?” He demanded once he was sure he could keep his voice level. She pointed behind her to the right. Mentally, Boone pictured what was in that direction. “The motel lobby?” He asked. She nodded once. Boone looked back down at the note in his hand at the name that stood out as if it was written in blood. “I want her dead.” When he looked back up, he was alone in the dinosaur.

Boone spent a few minutes checking over his rifle and loading the bullet he’d swore would get his revenge. As he turned to leave the dinosaur, his eyes caught movement below him. The woman in rags was walking out to the overpass in front of the dinosaur. She was pointing at something excitedly, beside her was a woman he immediately recognized. Jeannie May Crawford. Boone’s blood began to boil as a lifeless smile creeped to his lips. His midnight visitor knew. Jeannie May finally pulled his new friend to a stop and started to berate her for waking up an old lady at such an ungodly hour for no good reason. His own heartbeat pounding in his ears drowned out the rest of her lecture as he pulled his rifle to his shoulder. Working hard to steady his hands, Boone took aim. The shot was deafening in the quiet night.

It was over. Boone wanted to sigh in relief. Instead he growled in frustration. He felt no relief, no closure. He felt nothing. _Nothing_ at all. But it was finally all over. All over. With stiff hands he slung his rifle over his shoulder then reached down for the pistol that he was never without. The sound when he unsnapped the strap holding the 9mm in place was loud in the quiet night. He grasped the cool metal grip and withdrew the weapon. This was it. No more running. He raised the pistol to his temple. Just before the gun was in place it was pulled to a stop by a heavy weight. He jerked the gun away and spun around to see his new friend. She kept her glove on the gun, keeping it between them. With her other hand she pointed to him, then to herself then she pointed out the mouth of the dinosaur, to the east.

They stood silently for almost a minute as Boone’s eyes searched for something behind the goggles. She had done him a favor. How she knew about it was beyond him but she had brought him justice. He owed her a favor. He wouldn’t go to his death while he was still in debt.

“Let’s go.” He finally said with a nod.

She nodded back and released the pistol. She then headed down the stairs out of the dinosaur and he followed.

Boone didn’t even bother heading to his room to pick up supplies. He had his rifle, his sidearm, his machete and his NCR survival training and that was all he needed. His friend, however, had other plans. She led him over to the messy remains of the Crawford bitch. She grabbed the bitch by the ankle and began dragging. They walked east.

As the sun rose, Boone got a much better look at his companion. What he had taken for rags in the dark was actually form fitted leather armor with a partially shredded cloak over it. Other than the dozens of pouches around her waist she wore a small backpack set carefully over two crossed swords on her back. He still didn’t see a gun.

Shortly before dawn, his mysterious companion kicked the corpse into a ditch and they continued on. Boone nearly walked into her when she stopped suddenly. She pointed off to their right and Boone follow her finger with his eyes to a lone molerat. Breakfast, Boone assumed and took the shot. They retrieved the molerat and then found a shaded alcove. Inside, Boone was surprised to a small pile of firewood and a duffle bag. His companion sat down and started making a fire. Between her making the fire and him gutting the molerat soon, they had breakfast cooking. They sat on opposite sides of the fire, in the morning light.

“Can you speak?” Boone asked as the food cooked. The woman across from him started slightly, before raising her goggles up to his eyes. After several seconds, she shook her head. She looked back at the fire for several more seconds before nodding almost imperceptibly. Boone watched as she carefully pulled back the heavy hood. Beneath the hood were several more layers of fabric. Delicately, she unwrapped the long scarf revealing chin length, sun bleached blond hair. Suddenly, she flinched and Boone saw her unmasked jaw clench. She continued more carefully, finally revealing an angry red gash along the right side of her head. She finally removed the goggle and Boone got to see the face of the woman who’d helped him.

She was pale, far too pale to be a native of the sun scorched Mojave. He eyes were piercing blue and were almost enough to pull his eyes off the hideous but healing injury. She caught him staring and huffed.

“Uhh… Damn.” He wasn’t sure what to say. That looked like an injury you didn’t survive. It almost looked like a bullet wound. But it couldn’t be. People don’t survive a bullet to the head. “How did you…” Boone began before he realized he probably wouldn’t get an answer.

She ghosted her fingers over the wound before pointing two fingers at his head with her thumb cocked up, mocking a pistol. She then jerked the mock pistol up, miming firing a shot.

“You were shot?” He asked in surprise.

She merely bobbed her head once in reply. She pulled the duffle bag over and began digging through it. Eventually she found a stimpak and applied it to her neck. An instant later Boone barely got his hand up in time to catch a water bottle that sailed over the fire to him.

“Uhh… thanks.” He grunted as he uncapped the bottle and took a drink. Boone had questions. Who was she? How did she survive a bullet to the head? Why couldn’t she speak? Among a dozen others. But if she couldn’t speak, then she couldn’t answer. There was one question that he deemed worth asking. “What do I call you?”

She looked up at him with those piercing blue eyes. She seemed to think for a moment before she raised four fingers and a thumb on one hand and a single finger on the other.

“Six?” Boone asked questioningly.

Six nodded in reply then pointed to him and cocked her head to the side.

“Me? Boone. But you know that already, don’t you?” He asked accusingly.

She was still for a moment before closing her eyes and nodding.

“But even if I ask how you know, you can’t tell me, can you?”

She smiled sadly at him and pointed down at the food on the fire. Any answers Boone wanted would have to come later.


End file.
